Sugar Sugar
by asphaltcowgrrl
Summary: Travis loves to mess with Wes. And with his car. Usually involving food, too. This is just one example of what I think is an endless supply of frustration for Detective Mitchell.


Sugar, Sugar

Wes hated it when Travis ate in his car. _Hated. It. _However, for the sake of their partnership – and the hope of getting out of couple's therapy _someday_ – he usually made a valiant attempt to at least try to swallow his irritation and instead kept a close eye on his partner, praying he didn't get grease on the dash or soda on the leather. A pile of napkins forever at the ready. That is, until today.

Today Travis had finally crossed the line.

Wes glared at the handsome, blue-eyed man in his passenger seat as he slowly unfolded the top of a paper bag. He'd had a moment of panic when he'd seen the purple and orange logo gracing one side of the bag, knowing that inside was a plethora of sugary, greasy, possibly sprinkle-covered goodness. This was more than Wes could handle.

_Breathe_, he told himself. _It's not that bad. He wouldn't dare bring a –_

"Hey man, want a donut?"

Wes' eyes widened at the sight of his worst nightmare. A freaking powdered sugar donut was held aloft in his partner's fingers, just ten inches from his face. He watched as Travis waved it slowly back and forth, confectioner's sugar breaking free from the fried dough and drifting like snow onto Travis' dark skin and Wes' charcoal grey interior.

Travis watched his partner's nostrils flare in response to the offering he held. "Here, I thought it might be your favorite, although you've never actually said so."

"I don't want the damn donut, Travis," he said. If he clenched his teeth any harder, his jaw might just lock.

Travis blinked. He hadn't expected such a vehement response, but he shrugged it off. It was hard telling sometimes how Wes would react to any given thing. Opening his mouth, he lifted the white confection to his lips and smiled. "If you say so, Blondie."

Wes watched him lift the circle of carbs and fat to his mouth, opening wide and taking a large bite. Powdered sugar and cakey crumbs smeared along his full, lower lip as he pulled the donut away, chewing. Travis took another bite, smudging white powder along his upper lip this time. With a third bite, a drift of sweetness landed on Travis' chin, accentuating the café au lait of his skin. By the fourth bite, Wes found himself inexplicably unable to look away. His partner's mouth, all strong teeth and luscious lips, held his full focus.

Travis shoved the last of the donut into his mouth, the tip of his tongue darting out to capture a bit of the sugar on his upper lip. A tortured sound filled the interior of the Chrysler and it took them both a moment before realizing the sound had come from Wes.

Blue eyes sparkling with mischief, Travis lifted an eyebrow. "Problems?"

He was answered succinctly and desperately when Wes launched himself over the center console, securing himself against Travis' chest, one knee on the divider, the other firmly planted in the driver's seat. The blonde pressed his mouth greedily against the other man's, biting, licking, and devouring every last speck of donut he could find. Sugar coating his tongue, lust infusing his body, Wes was unable to stop molesting his partner's mouth.

Slowly, he regained control of himself, breathing hard and craving more than just an old fashioned cruller. Wes released his grip on Travis' jaw, withdrawing far enough to be able to look into the depths of his partner's seductive eyes. "You are never allowed to eat donuts in my car again. Ever." He leaned in closer, licking just a hint of powdered sugar from the corner of Travis' mouth, clearing the last of the contraband from his being. "Do you understand me?"

Astounded not just by the way Wes' coffee-flavored kisses amplified the sweetness of what he'd been eating, but also by the warmth of his partner's skin, the aggressiveness of his attack, Travis simply nodded, unable to vocalize a simple one-word answer. _Yes._ Tamping down on the sudden urge to grin, he met Wes' gaze directly and nodded a second time, reassuring, while contemplating what kind of chaos a Boston Crème might cause tomorrow morning.


End file.
